


the apple, the orchard

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Gen, Lineage, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Nile saves a man in Paris who is startlingly reminiscent of Booker, which sparks a conversation with Joe and Nicky about whether they have any descendants still alive in the world.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 341





	the apple, the orchard

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt.

It happens so fast that Nile doesn’t even know what’s happening until it’s too late and her muscles kick in. The car’s coming too quickly down the Parisian road, the man is busy reading a text off his phone, his sunglasses blocking out the rest of the world, and he’s going to get hit.

That’s not even the first alarm going off in Nile’s head.

No, that’s the one that shouts, _Booker_ , because it looks like him. 

She moves on muscle memory, bending down to contact Booker in the midsection to push him out of the way of the car screaming down the back alley, shouting, “Look out!” in English (and Booker can cope). She knows he can heal from it, but the last thing she needs is a lecture from Andy about being caught on someone’s phone camera.

Things start getting real weird right after.

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” the man gasps, fingers scraping the asphalt to grab at his cracked phone. His sunglasses have slipped off, giving Nile a better look at the man’s face. 

It’s not Booker.

It looks a hell of a lot like him, but it’s _not_ Booker. 

“Oh, uh,” Nile stammers, before remembering that she just saved the guy’s life. Seeing as he’s not immortal, she shouldn’t be the one apologizing. “Watch,” she says, gesturing with military precision to the road, “where you’re going.”

The man nods, looking sheepish as he tucks his phone away. He draws to his full height and without the sunglasses, Nile can get a better look at him. He leans over to help her up, giving her an appreciative look. “Thank you, for saving my life,” he says, almost rueful as he stares down at his phone. “ _J'espère que c’est la dernière fois, mais, moi et mon téléphone_ …” He shakes his head like it’s not the first and won’t be the last.

Nile is still staring, almost like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

His eyes are green, his hair is a touch blonder, but that’s Booker’s jawline, his eyes. She’s only barely stopping herself from pointing at him, but she can’t stop it. He looks so much like him that it can’t possibly be a coincidence. 

“Nile?”

Shit. “Nicky,” Nile says, remembering that she’s meant to be joining him and Joe at the cafe around the corner and is probably late. “I was just talking to…”

The man gives Nicky a nod. “Alexandre,” he introduces himself. “Your friend, she just saved my life.” 

“She is very kind like that,” Nicky agrees. “We should go,” he says, and there’s a firmness in the way he speaks that makes Nile aware that it’s not a suggestion. “Alexandre,” he says, his French perfect, “Please, be careful. You would not want to hurt yourself.” 

He lets out one last exhalation of disbelief, waving them off as they turn their backs on him to walk away. Nile lets Nicky hook his arm with hers, mostly because she thinks she could use the little extra hustle to get moving. 

“Is that…?”

“Booker’s descendent? Yes,” Nicky confirms. “Which means Booker is maybe nearby,” he admits. 

She’d known about his sons, but grandsons? No, by this point, it would be a lot further down the line. In fact, it’s almost amazing that the man still has so much of Booker’s genetic pool to draw from, making him look so similar. 

Suddenly, a thought hits her. 

“Did you and Joe have kids?” Is she going to run smack into a familiar face in Italy, one day? It’s almost impossible, she knows, that after a thousand years they’d look the same, but she can’t help wondering.

Nicky shakes his head, guiding her to the wicker chair waiting for her at the cafe.

“What caused the hold up?” Joe asks, sugaring Nicky’s coffee for him.

“Nile was playing hero,” Nicky praises, sitting in the chair waiting for him. “And meeting Booker’s great-great-great-great-grandson.”

“He still lives here, huh?”

Nile sinks down into the chair, glaring at them from across the table. “You _knew_ he had descendants?”

Joe nods, but Nile realizes there’s probably a very good reason it doesn’t come up.

“Nile wanted to know if we ever had kids,” Nicky shares, mumbling a soft _grazie_ as Joe hands him the cup of coffee. She wants to know a lot more, but she’s beginning to think she’ll need an itemized list at this point, starting with how they know about Alexandre and what else they haven’t been telling her.

Joe laughs brightly. “Do I scream ‘Daddy’ to you?”

Nile groans, covering her face with her hands. “I never should have shown you those memes,” she complains. 

“Be nice,” Nicky chides softly.

“I didn’t have children, but I have a niece and nephew,” Joe says, far more serious. It’s enough for Nile to take her hands off her face, sensing that it’s safe to come out now. “One of each,” he says, with a sureness that Nile hopes she can have. “Nicky and I lost track of them for a while,” he admits, “but I keep family trees in my notebooks.” His eyes are soft and when he smiles, Nile thinks he’s probably thinking about them.

“How many are there now?”

Joe laughs with that same loud bark, filled with pride. “More than I can keep count of, some days, but less than there should be. There were hard years,” he admits. “Nicky and I, we take care of them. They’re not our family these days, but they’re still blood.”

“We set up scholarships,” Nicky explains. “Develop grants or intervene with supplies when it might be needed. We don’t want children of our own, but it is good to know that we can do some good.”

Nile gives Nicky a fond look. “You do plenty of good,” she insists.

Joe reaches for her hand to squeeze. “And so do you,” he vows. “Booker’s gonna be really happy that you saved Alexandre’s life.” 

He’s proven right when, three days later, Nile arrives back to the apartment in Paris to find an impressively old bottle of Grand Cru on the doorstep, with an elegant note attached to it. 

_Thank you for saving his life when I couldn’t._

It’s an unnecessary gift, but Nile takes it anyway and stores it safely with the other possessions she’s been collecting. In another few decades, when Booker returns to them, that’s when she’ll bring out the bottle and pour them a glass to toast to Alexandre and any sons and daughters he’s had by then.

A toast, she thinks, to family. 

**Author's Note:**

>  _J'espère que c’est la dernière fois, mais, moi et mon téléphone_ \- (Roughly) I'd love/I hope to say it's the last time, but...me and my telephone...


End file.
